Werewolf, I
by Aubrey Briar
Summary: A young werewolf masquerades as a normal witch in hope of acceptance, but in doing so, learns that it is not she who is the true monster.
1. A Hard NotLife

The floor had at one point been carpeted, but pulled up after the first transformation. Now, there was only the stone, scratched and scuffed, and so very cold beneath my skin. Their funds for my kind had always been low, so there was no need to replace ruin-able things that a wild creature would never notice. Although, this wild creature noticed.

My body ached of scratches where my hands had caught themselves in my own person, of marks where I had bit myself in frustration. Of gashes from falling and throwing myself against the door, the walls, trying to escape to the outside. The Bites had opened as well, my hands looking like a war zone, the white scars a vivid and bruised purple. She just sat there, talking, her lime green robes were draped over the back of the chair, careful not to touch the floor. She held my hand, she coaxed sanity back into my mind with her charmed words, she draped a sheet over me, but she did not look at me. None of the nurses did.

But frankly, I wouldn't look at myself either, not in this condition. Two hundred and forty painful transformations, twenty years of shame, and I was still unable to look at myself in the mirror. I had long ago chucked the mirror from the room, unable to look at my matted hair, my bloodied, beaten face, the bruises, the scars. It still affected me as it had when I was eight.

I finally twitched, finally gave the woman some sign that I hadn't put myself out of my misery, and she helped me to my feet, wrapping the sheet firmly around me and tucking in the edges affectionately. I didn't return the smile, I wouldn't have been able to even if I could afford to make a friend. Friends meant weakness, I would forget, in their charming company what I was, just for a little, and then some sort of disaster would strike. The lack of close relationships had taken its toll on me, I knew, but I couldn't forget what I was. I couldn't bring myself to sharing a bit of my pain. Passing along this curse because of a momentary lapse of judgement, and it would be all over for me, and my victim.

"There we go, can you walk? Would you like a bit of help? You made quite a bit of noise last night, think you scared number sixty-four, your neighbour." I glanced at the door as we past it. I hadn't even realised she already unlocked my room, ushering me out quickly so that the hospital room could begin repairing itself, but she had, and I could only mumble a few gargled syllables of a reply. My tongue seemed rather fond of my werewolf form, making it difficult to eat, and speak, hours, even days after one of my disturbing nights.

Number sixty-four had already been vacated, his room clean as a whistle. Merlin, how I wanted to frown. Unable to raise a hand to rub my unmoving face, I inwardly huffed. The only expression I was going to be capable of for the next day was one of a dim-wit. Truly, my good fortune was at its peak for the month. Usually I got stuck with a pain-in-the-arse look. Literally. Huffing once more, I let her steer me down to the bathing corridor, getting a little push towards the door on the right.

"Clean yourself up nice, now. If you don't, we have to come back here from the healing corridor, and I'll have to clean you myself, properly. Don't think you'd enjoy that, werewolf or not." I didn't respond, but she seemed to get enough of an answer from my flinch. "I'm sorry, I know this is hard enough for you. You go on in there, and I'll get you a bite to drink. Something to warm your belly." I pushed myself into the bathing-room before she could say anything more, her kindness and motherly affection making my scratches ache all the more. I didn't want company, I wasn't a social person. Werewolves were known to travel in packs when transformed, as social as real wolves, but I was far more human than monster at the moment. No matter what my tongue thought.

The bath had already been drawn, the clean water looking like heaven on Earth, and I gently pulled the sheet off of me, careful of the gashes I might reopen. Slipping into the pool had been a task itself, but once the water supported my body weight, I could feel my mind relaxing just as my body did. But rather than lose my sanity, I felt it returning. The frustration and taxation from the night before finally taking over, and I shut my eyes. If I drowned, hurrah, but I doubt I would. Death whilst sleeping would be too utterly painless.

I didn't need to be completely awake to know that I was finally frowning at myself. I was being entirely too cynical about myself, no rather, everything. At least I had a chance to live among normal people. Those who were bitten by vampires had to go off, they became wanderers. Many werewolves did the same, but for the most part, I would be more likely accepted by a group of people over a vampire. I didn't need blood to survive, a werewolf only craved it for sheer victory. The door opened, but being lazy and half asleep I ignored it, allowing myself to sink a bit lower into the water. If it were another victim of the Bite, then so be it, but if it were that nurse, I wasn't ready at all to give up this small moment of peace. I ended up gargling water as something hit my face, causing me to flinch whilst my nose was millimetres above the surface.

"Don't leave your things just lying around, you'll make more mess than you need," a woman snapped. I finally opened my eyes, peeling the sheet off my face, now wet from being submerged as I had gone went under. A sudden flare to snap at the woman died as soon as it appeared, but she didn't seem to notice, twitching about her wand, cleaning the bathroom. Pushing my hair out of my eyes, I watched her make quick work of the job, before leaving once more without a single by-your-grace, and I fumed, sinking back into the water, and allowing it to close around the top of my head. I'd make quick work of her, one report to St. Mungo's and she'd be cleaning grindy-lode takes for a year.

Scrubbing my face, I let out a stream of curses into the water, all of them bubbling to the surface. St. Mungo's would technically have to reprimand her, but they wouldn't like getting a complaint from a genetic malfunction like myself. She wouldn't get punished either for her rude behaviour, even though I was a paying customer. No; no matter the organisation, the group of people, the gender or the race, nobody liked agreeing with a werewolf over a Normal. I'd just do well to scrub all the dirt, grime and caked blood off of my person so I could get out of here as quickly as possible. Once I returned home, I would be able to take a long nap, and have the company of someone who actually liked me.

Even house elves, despite their loyalty, had the choice of rather or not they liked their master, or mistress, and I had made sure that my only companion wasn't afraid of me. One of the reasons I came to St. Mungo's rather than set up a similar, self-repairing room in my own home. I certainly could afford it with the money my parents had left me.

I rose to the surface to suck in air. They'd accepted me at one point as well, but neither of them had wanted to stay in Britain whilst I faced these troubles. They'd left me a handsome inheritance and gone off to live somewhere in Africa, travelling and exploring like many aging couples do. They were still there as well, living as they chose. They sent me letters once in every week or so, or rather my mum did, and it'd been that way for a good six years now.

'I ought to move down there with them,' I thought grimly. 'Although, perhaps they moved away just to get a small break from my misfortune? I was lucky they didn't disown me.. How did my nails get so filthy?' I scrubbed roughly at my nails, trying to removed the piles of dirt from beneath them. I loved my parents dearly, but I didn't like thinking about them. Move down there, what was I thinking? I don't like having close relationships.

Merlin, I was a hypocrite. 


	2. Golby

The cafeteria's food was horrible, and I couldn't put more than a bite into my stomach before pushing the plate away. It had never been very good, but they seemed to have out-done themselves this time around. Still as present as ever, the nurse whose name I would never learned picked at her own, though she looked as if she needed it more than I did at the moment. She not only kept watch over me, but three others sharing my delicate condition, and she looked strained. We all sat together at a table pushed apart from the others. Even the three muggles in the room, allowed to mingle with wizards, seeing as they wouldn't remember any of it in the end, seemed to steer away from us. It must have been the various injuries across our faces, and exposed limbs. My hands, of course, didn't help the situation when they split open unexpectedly whilst I reached for the pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"Bloody hell," I cursed loudly, receiving startled looks from my own table, and I quickly wrapped my hand in the closest piece of clothe. My lap napkin.

"Looks like you got that break you wanted," the nurse said immediately, watching my antics with an amused smile. She wouldn't suggest helping me until I asked for it. I frowned darkly, huffing.

"Just fix it, you're the nurse," I said finally, thrusting my hand at her. The other three were sniffing their food with disgust, nose wrinkled in a most wolfish-fashion. I sighed inwardly, knowing my scowl was nothing less than monstrous at the moment. Somethings never went away. The man on my right suffered from a slight in his spine now, unnoticeable unless you were told about it, and the two women across from me both had to have their jaws fixed after every transformation. I myself, I bled far too much for anyone's liking. I could afford the dental bills, as well my house elf had fixed my teeth when I'd charmed them accidentally, he was a good dentist. It was a blessing and a curse at the same time, my parent's money.

I donated monthly to the hospital due to my guilt. Well, that and the fact I ruined their hospital rooms monthly.

Nurse fixed my hand in a jif, and I snatched my drink towards me when she released it, thanking her quickly. My other hand was otherwise busy, encased in a wrapping of guaze and surgical wrap to keep my fingers from popping joints. This business of being a werewolf was far more a disgusting process than one supposed. The man, Rupert, by my side, patted my mummified hand knowingly, wiggling his own fingers and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"So, Nurse." The woman sitting directly across from me, a robust and broad shouldered lass with a wild tangle of mess-red hair, as deep as cherry-gold, smiled toothily at our keeper, getting a goofy giggle from her bench partner. "Which kind of weather can we expect today? A light drizzle of animosity, or perhaps another summer shower of 'Sherman's Anti-Werewolf Concoction'?"

"You know, they really ought to change their slogan from whatever it is to 'Because you'd rather smell like a wet dog than be one.'" Rupert piped in gruffily, shovelling a spoon of oatmeal into his mouth and washing it down with his morning tea before it hit his tongue. I snorted loudly, and the shy woman, no, girl, giggled shrilly, causing the nurse to laugh herself.

"I plan to stay dry today, thank you." Nurse began, watching Rupert with a certain, horrified interest. I had to admit, watching him eat was quite a bit more entertaining than anything going on in the room. It was near on dead quiet except for the fit of laughing the girl had gone into. She stuffed her fist into her mouth, and slouched down into her seat. "Although," the nurse's face became quite serious, looking up from her hands briefly, "the ministry's instituted a new accordance for.. minorities."

"What kind of minorities?" Rupert drilled, swallowing so swiftly that I thought he'd choke. Rupert was quite influencial in the wizarding community, despite his disability, having provided jobs and economy for a good deal of witches and wizards otherwise unable to achieve jobs. He knew how to get what he wanted. Many of them included men and women in our own condition, as well as vampires and other 'half-breeds.' He had hired so many over-whelming numbers of outcasts, that people had begun to realize how large the minority really was, and many were hired for outside jobs when their skills were realized.

"Well, its more like minority. Umbridge's involved, I'm afraid." Nurse folded her hands together and allowed them to finally fall to her lap. She almost looked like an admonished child until she put them on top of the table top once again.

"Heavens, not her again," the robust woman across from me spoke again, and her bench partner had a complete look of confusement upon her face. She was realitvely knew to the Process, having only transformed three times thus far.

"She's the biggest obstical between you and a normal life," I butted in, looking pointedly at her. "Not your condition; she hates us."

Nurse had been speaking about the former proticals and Rupert instantly barked, "I know the old proticals. I want to know the new ones. Bugger, I was bitten before you learned what those proticals were. Get on with it so we can go try and sort of out what's left of our life. What's she done this time, take away our rights to have house-elves and owls? Too dangerous to send mail to our mums, and have the company of someone who doesn't judge us?" I wasn't the only one who lived alone with a house-elf it seemed. Lonely people think alike. "I've two children I have to get back to. If she tries taking them from me one more time, I swear." Maybe not.

"She tried taking your children?" the youngest asked and he scowled, nodding. "Not her specifically, but I'm sure she intiated it," he replied before motioning for Nurse to continue.

"They are some new restrictions," she said biting her lip in a grimace. "Instead of just checking in with the ministry every six months, you're required to go every month, or two months depending, and basically telling them that you're alive still."

"Once a month, is that it? I don't see a problem in that personally, not many werewovles have social lives it'll intrude upon." I replied conversationally and she grimaced once again.

"They take a blood test now, they've werewolf officials like me down there pricking your initial bites, testing whether or not you've taken human blood during your latest transformation. That sounds reasonable I know, but you know how magic is in the blood. They check to see what spells you've preformed as well, and they've put a restriction on the enchantments werewolves can cast."

"Merlin forbid I summon a tea pot now, I'm guessing?"

"Exactly." A collective sigh went about the table, the girl finally grasping the situation she'd been so unceremoniously thrust into. "And it sounds like they may try getting your two girls again." Rupert jumped to his feet, rocking the table slightly, and we quieted immediately. "They may not have been too concerned for your children's safety before, because they knew you had transformed, but she's got the counsil believing that bitten people have complete control over rational thought and actions when the full moon's out. Quoting a ministry worker, 'They only howl at the moon to give us a bit of a scare.' That was after a small little meeting that she headed."

"Merlin's beard," I muttered. That was saying he killed his wife on purpose. The broad-shouldered woman gave him a small push towards the door. He took off running, as if his very life depended on it, and a head medi-witch spoke sharply to him as he passed, but he paid no heed.

"He's lost enough," the woman said, as if she needed an excuse for her actions. "We all have, but his kids are all he has. It's like you losing your house-elf, er, What's-His-Name?"

"Too true," I responded, my stomach clenching at the thought of Golby not being there to welcome me home.

"Ah.." Nurse began once more and all of us looked at her once more. "there's a new process of being released from the hospital as well. It's not drastic, but I think you might find it a bit of an inconvience when you get to level A.. Someone has to be there for you now, to pick you up. Authorizing that you're completely human once again."

"Well obviously I'm not jumping at your throat to spawn another 'creature of the night.' Besides, what do they care, Sherman's is supposedly so effective that one little spray on a full fledged werewolf and it turns back into a babe version of the human within." Nurse snorted this time, and I finally returned the smile she had given me when I had first pulled myself up off the floor earlier that morning. "Anyways, I'd like to get it over, and go home then. Are we all done eating?"

All four of us were on our feet before I could think 'Quidditch.' The very concept of leaving the stuffy tea-room gave me a good feeling, a sense of hope and justice. Once I was out of this hospital, I was back to my normal life, an inconvience out of my way.

"CHAPERONE? Oh, no, I'll show you shouting. I'll shout my way to the Minister's office if I have to. You get me my- GET ME A FLOO TO MY NANNY." It seemed Rupert had reached floor A, and as we reached the stairwell to C, his voice floated up clearly. My eyebrows raised and wondered how many bones he had broken. He had always been a very good father, I had known him from the few social events that included half-things like ourselves, and his daughters adored him. I knew for a fact, he'd murder Cornelius Fudge for approving the Restriction Acts, and ruining Umbridge for life (he would never hit a woman) if he lost his children.

I, however, didn't seem to have the problem of not having a chaperone. However short, Golby's ears were highly visible as he waded through the base level's waiting room when we finally reached it. He attached himself to my robes like a leech, fisting the material and warding off anyone who walked too close. "Feeling good, Mistress?" he asked immediately, straining to see through the bandages on my hands. He had a look on his face that clearly said he imagined himself a better nurse than the one at my side. And sadly enough for her, he more than likely was in some degrees.

The Restrictions had been put into force at half past three this morning, around which I had finally been dying down in my thrashing, and it must have been the fact that they were so new that no one opposed Golby 'leading' me out of the Hospital dspite the fact that he trailed half a centimetre behind me, still latched onto me like a lost child. I felt whole-heartedly happy about the fact, my affection for the house-elf running deep. He'd been much apart of my life for so many years, knew me so well, that it was uncanny. He could read my mind it seemed like, however he didn't seem to read it now.

"Where's my wand?" I rummaged through my pockets, stopping in my tracks. "I can't go home without my wand. I can't even wash dishes without it, for Merlin's sake." Golby slipped it out of his pocket and I thanked him generously, praising him for out-smarting whomever he'd outsmarted. They kept these things locked up in the front desk. Of course, the lock-breaking skills I had taught him as a small child, involving a bobby pin and a tap-dancing jinx had worked just splendid I was sure.

We had never recieved lettes of under-aged magic for that, most of it contributed to our house-elf. "Reminds me, did I receive any mail whilst I was gone?" 


	3. Oh, Hurray

Author's Note: I'd like to point out that Remus Lupin will make an appearance in this story, perhaps chapters 4, or 5. I haven't decided. Perhaps your input will determine the outcome, however, I'm not sure how many people are actually reading this. Just remember, please, Remus is not a main character in this story, he will be in the sequel, but not this one.  
---  
  
The ride home had been, for the most part, quite uneventful. The scratches on my face had mercifully been sealed up by tonic at St. Mungo's, and as I no longer looked as if a muggle semi had run over my entire body (although it half felt like one had), I didn't cause a distraction. Golby's presence, of course did, signifying a small bit of my social stature in the wizarding community, and what kind of 'upper-class' witch would ride the Knight Bus? But I did without a second thought.  
  
The Floo Network was too much of a workout on my exhausted body, and Floo powder in general upset my sinuses. Spending more time than needed in St. Mungo's, other than my transformation, especially for magically swollen glands wasn't on my list of things to do this month. Nor any month after this. What was on my list was registering at the Ministry, Dolores Umbridge itching to make it all the more difficult for werewolves and half-breeds alike to go about normally. She even scheduled for the lot of us to come in alphabetically. The owl my faithful servant had given me as we exited the hospital had informed me that I was due in two weeks from now, the same say I was scheduled to have tea with one of my old friends from summer camp.  
  
Of course, I would see her in the lines as well. She was a werewolf just as I; it was the reason we'd met in the first place. Owling her was on my bigest things to do now, as well as updating my mother.  
  
"Do you remember, Golby," I began, setting aside the paper I'd been thumbing through, to look down at him. I had moved to the window seat, but he hadn't taken up the aisle seat beside me. Standing aside it however, holding onto the seat's edge, he looked at me expectantly. However much leeway I gave him, he still didn't take his 'unusual' freedoms for granted. He hadn't been born into my family's service, and he still sometimes flinched when I would reach to fix his collar, he knew what he was and wasn't supposed to do, according to the standard set by his previous family. "Do you remember when I went to summer camp right after I had been bitten? The camp for werewolves?"  
  
"Yes, Misses," he said, nodding. His gaze flicked to a passenger behind us whose own paper rustled.  
  
"Just wondering." There was no point in trying to get his opinion out of him, he didn't complain, ever. I was sure he wasn't miserable with his current conditions, but I also wasn't sure whether or not he was happy. I was often moody after my sudden disappearances and took it out on him by snapping at the smallest things he did, but he didn't complain. It was his job to keep his chin up, but still. It wasn't until we stepped off the Knight Bus until I opened my mouth to approach the subject. I knew what the answer was undeniably going to be, but I think it was my lack of self-confidence, even towards a house-elf, that needed to hear the answer.  
  
"Are you happy, living with me, even though I am what I am?" Golby's answer held no hesitation, nor did his quick footed steps towards the front door to unlock it for me.  
  
"Yes, Misses. Very happy."  
  
My conscience felt relieved, a burdened lifted, I had his word, but my mind had begun to whirl and I watched him magic the door open, lugging my over-night bag with him. What was it like, day in and day out, caring for a creature such as myself, knowing, yet not knowing what happened when it was time for the moon to reveal itself completely? I went away every Full Moon morning, and everyone knew we transformed, but never being there, never knowing exactly how the process went.. Was it scary to think, to even hesitate a thought that perhaps I wasn't fully human once again?  
  
Shaking my head, shaking away the ridiculous and disturbing thoughts I watched the house elf disappear down the entrance hall, towards the parlour stairs to deposit my things in their rightful places. I headed for the kitchen, knowing that a fresh batch of pumpkin juice was always waiting for me on the counter, and there it was. Routine, regularity, he knew what I needed, even if I sometimes wished myself out of this consistent life.  
  
Sipping the sweet drink, I listened to his quiet rustles above me, scanning the kitchen for anything out of place. I wasn't surprised to find it as perfectly in order as usual, but then again, he was a house elf and one could expect no less. I was certainly a lucky person, even if I weren't a monster. Not many witches, normal witches, had a house to themselves, single as anything, and a servant, a friend, who never argued, and made you feel at home, whilst never picking into your deepest thoughts. As well, most witches, single, and alone, didn't have enough money buried beneath the London streets to keep them content for the rest of their lives, at least, with careful spending.  
  
Careful spending which did include doctor visits every month, as well as new fees for the Ministry because I had happened to wander away from my mother's supervision.  
  
I set down the empty cup and wiped my hands on the sides of my robes, drying the condensation that had formed around the glass. I had no real responsibilities, other than getting to St. Mungo's every month, and no friends to speak of, not really. That girl from camp all those years ago, she and I were going to have a meet up one of these days, at least if its allowed still, but that would be in weeks. Deciding on contacting my mother, I wandered away from the kitchen, the dirtied dishware cleaning itself as I stepped away, and for an hour I occupied myself with the small task of retelling her once again that I was no worse for wear, no pun intended.  
  
After my return home, I spent days doing nothing, as usual. I finished books I had been meaning to read, and finished organising the small personal library I was collecting. I had put up a new bookcase, waist high, for all of the werewolf novels I had bought, ranging from muggle-written lore, to magical non-fiction. The newspaper had reported days after my release, that Rupert had filed a suit against the Ministry, having returned home to find his home pilfered, and his children taken do to 'exposure to unnecessary danger.' His family had been immediately returned to him, his large corporation far too big to repossess like his personal things, although his sister in law and vouched to be their primary caregiver. The magical government's compensation for the fostering was too large for her to not try and obtain. I was sure that he would get tout of the situation, and black list her from his contacts, but to my horror, the Ministry had immediately lepta on her claim of blood relations. No matter the fact that she visited St. Mungo's far more than Rupert.  
  
That had been a week ago, exactly, and tossing the day's paper into the fire, I watched the Minister's bemused face turn to a look of resentment and forlorn, the flames licking at its edges. Golby was ironing a pair of my robes in the laundry room, but I knew if I needed him, he would come within two seconds of my calling. I glanced nervously, almost irritably from the burning paper to the hall archway, almost expecting Ministry officials to swoop down and removed my own 'caregiver.'  
  
"Misses, robe's done," Golby said, appearing in the archway, holding the folded clothes. I flashed him an appreciative smile before watching his short, thin nose scrap the floor. "Puts them in the drawers, I will," he added promptly, disappearing once again. I sighed, my mind off one frustrating subject and onto another one. Was there a reason house-elves didn't speak properly, I wondered. A gland, a strand of fibre inside of them that disallowed them to speak their native language correctly? I sighed again, attempting to blow hair out of my eyes. I failed miserably and tugged them behind me ear.  
  
"Golby, what's the schedule for today?" I called after him.  
  
"S'going to clean the Kitchen, Golby," he cried promptly, skittering across the doorway to fetch something or another. I watched his antics, smiling as he rushed to add fuel to the fire. "Thens I will be weeding the garden."  
  
"That's my job, Golby. I weed the garden, you don't touch it today," I responded, looking at him from over the edge of my nose. He had learnt early on to do what he wanted, but he had always been unable to 'disobey' the haughty witch look I was piercing him with now. "Yes, ma'am's," he said quickly, looking downcast. I gave a swift, but gentle shove of affection towards the Kitchen. He didn't go near the garden, I wasn't allowed within the area of the kitchen without his permission. Well, almost.  
  
I was a fool when it came to cooking, and we both knew it. I was learning, but I still wasn't very good at it.  
  
The house-elf disappeared from the sitting room, and as the last shred of the day's paper burned din the fireplace, I pushed myself out of the couch and back onto my feet. My gardening clothes would be lying on my bed, waiting for me, the 'bickering' merely a formality before we got along with our real jobs. It was a rare occurrence when I allowed him to do it, which included both times I had broken my foot and had been unable to get home the day of gardening. However, as I reached the bottom of the staircase, my foot brushing the wood, something clicked. I was forgetting something important, and almost frantically I called for the house-elf.  
  
"Golby, where are you? Come down stairs. Golby? Golby, come here!"  
  
The sprite blinked into view and his eyes widened a bit in fright. "Yessus?"  
  
"What am I supposed to do today?"  
  
"Garden, ma'am's,"  
  
"No, no, other than that. Golby, what important thing am I supposed to do today?" The house-elf's face brightened up as his memory kicked in, before his eyes flashed to the grandfather clock behind him. His happy expression then inverted, a dark cloud raining on his parade.  
  
"Misses was supposed to attend the Ministry today, with the Others. Late, you are."  
  
".. Of course I am, Globy, of course I am," I sat myself on the staircase as looked at him expectedly. Golby looked as spooked as I felt. Werewolves were never late to these things, punctuality was their middle name. A man could set his clock by a werewolf, if it were the right type. A werewolf couldn't be late, not when dealing with Umbridge. 'Merlin,' I thought, rubbing my forehead, 'Of course I'm late.' Ugh, and I had forgotten to owl my friend and reschedule our meet-up date. Wonderful.


	4. Ministry of Malice Part 1

Author's Note: If there are any typoes in this story, please tell me. I'm not sure Word caught them all.

---

A quiet ride of self-contemplation had awaited me as the Knight Bus brought us through its rounds to the Ministry. It had only been a few short minutes, given, but the amount of reflection had given me a headache.

Being a werewolf was, perhaps, not as hard as some made it sound, essentially. It was popular belief among my 'community' that the shape-shifting and painful nights were but a small problem that we had to deal with, compared to others. Well, other, really, singular. Dolores Umbridge, for as long as I could remember, had always opposed us, had always kept us down-trodden as much as possible. Given, it had been quite a trick to fit in before she had arrive, I'd been but a cub when she first took rule in the ministry, but I could remember when the first laws had been in place.

At one time, I had been unable to leave my own home, or even my own bedroom, because of a law she had managed to get ratified and passed (it, thankfully, had been busted due to suite brought against it). And at another time, I had been almost completely treated like a normal being, but that had died as soon as she took office, and had yet to return.

The mess it took to find a job was one of the biggest problems that leant itself to the access of werewolf bitings. Many bitten men and women lived homelessly, ranging for odd jobs and a roof for their head, the fear from childhood horror stories still lodged deep within an employer's head, especially if they were magical. Most often, we would have to look for muggle jobs, which eventually was made impossible by a law passed by Umbridge.

Although, that was one of her only laws that I thought was fitting and actually justified. Some of the loonier, so-to-speak, muggles had guessed us for what we were, but the danger of biting them had been too much. A man could almost forget what he was around the simple, non-magical folk, could almost believe that witches and goblins were nothing but storybook. Well, until the full moon came about.

Picking at my robes, I smiled cynically. I hadn't ever needed a job, it was unfair in many aspects, even a disadvantage for me at points. I mulled as the bus popped up in front of the Ministry's tattered phone booth, and was instantly escorted off by both Golby and conductor, Stan something. It disappeared with a bang, leaving my companion and I alone in a swirl of dust.

I pulled my cloak more closely around me, uncaring of whether there was a muggle to see my odd dress, knowing well enough that it was clear of any sign of life. Getting in the ministry was easy enough with my house elf remembering the keys and numbers to dial, and soon enough I had been spun and warped into the Ministry's front foyer, nearly stumbling into the back of a ruddy-faced wizard in a pinstripe robe-suit.

"Watch out, Miss," he said, helping me steady myself before pulling out his wand and checking my house-elf, and myself, own with a quick flick. "Third hall down the right, you should know the drill. Nice seeing you again, Madam," he finished, pinning a badge to my cloak before ushering Golby to a waiting room. House-elves, however happy and equal they appeared in the St. Mungo fountain, were not allowed past the entrance desks. And there, in that right-hand wall, I found a queue of others, and took my place behind an elderly warlock whose cheerful humming kept me from frowning in dismay.

Oh, the lines, the lines. What ever were they created for?

The wait was grueling, even for a patient such as me. Well, truthfully, I admitted, I had never been all that patient when dealing with the Ministry, and trying to garner any sort of self-pity whilst waiting in this horrible line wasn't going to get me anywhere. I shoved my hands in my pockets feeling oddly hopeless at the moment. The line look as if it were going to take ages more for her to reach the front, and it was already, what, half past three.

After waiting so long, and moving so little, my resolve had finally started unraveling. This horror of an afternoon was supposed to be finished and hour and a half ago, but the newest procedures had added to the wait, and I soon began to scowl, much to my own chagrin. At least they hadn't taken my wand away; perhaps I'd get away with blasting a few holes in the wall. Least it keep us all amused.

Switching weight from one foot to the other, I swayed and brushed against another queued and found myself apologizing into the same hazel eyes as the ones that stared at me in the mirror. "Excuse me," I said, straightening back up, taking in the other person with a quick second glance.

His robes were frayed and patched, and his weary looking person matched the tired robes. His fine brown hair had begun to gray at the temple, and years of work and worry had taken their toll on him, although he still possessed a thoughtful face and a kindness behind his werewolf eyes that was especially unique to his person. His eyes lit up benevolently, betraying the hardness of a werewolf-exterior, and his manner warmed considerably. Even the most anti-social almost waited on baited breath for conversation to strike up when they waited here. It made the passing quicker and the ordeal smoother considerably.

"No need to apologize," he said cheerfully, though his voice was lowered to accommodate the hushed murmur that barely rose in the room. It wasn't a truly formal affair, but all eyes would have been on me had I sneezed at any time, the quiet far too over-whelming for comfort. "Are you all right though, you bumped your head."

"I did?" I asked, raising a hand to check for bumps, I hadn't felt it if I really had.

"Just a small nick, hit my shoulder. Just making sure," he said quickly, assuring me as a patted down my hair. I felt terribly vain in front of him, my robes weren't exactly new, I hadn't bothered to change, but in comparison..

"Ah, well, thank you," I responded politely, offering him a warm smile and a hand, "Cadley Abernathy, at your service." My reply sounded to snappy, too.. something, but I didn't like it, but the man didn't seem to be offended. It was a pompous reply, that's what it was.

It was almost ironic, adding that little quip, seeing as I rarely went anywhere without my own servant. Almost funny, actually.

"Nice to meet you," he said, a friendly grin appearing. "Remus Lupin, at yours."

---

Author's Note: Finally, Remus has been introduced, although.. I'm not exactly sure whether or not he'll be in each chapter properly. As much as my fingers itch to turn this story into a duet, a romance, its solely the story of a single werewolf at the moment, though her experiences are shared world-wide.

Any questions, feel free to ask, as well, I'd like to apologize for any confusion I may had caused with the first-person narrative and the lack of a name. I hadn't even meant to put her name in this chapter, but it seemed to come in as a snappy little saying.

As well, I don't normally write like this, pompous, self-righteous, normally I write quite.. normal. It's merely Cadley. Any other kind of writing wouldn't do her justice.


	5. Ministry of Malice Part 2

Author's Note: Please do not use my review system as a correction forum, create a writer's column if you really wish to help others. I'll not again explain why I use 'whilst,' nor will I stop using it because some believe I look less 'professional' than I am..

May I remind, that if I were a professional writer, I'd barely the time to use , I'd be too busy writing physical books.

And Hydra, would you please email me, instead? My internet won't show your email.

-End-

A scream erupted from down the hall, and terrified cries interrupted any conversation that might have followed his introduction. My ears tingled and numbed as a little girl, hardly four, or five, tore down the hall, heading for the Ministry's exit, her mother snatching her up before she could get any farther than the line's end.

"No!" She screeched, she hollered, and the look of terror completely broke her mother's heart, the woman's face crestfallen as she held the wiggling child as tightly as possible. "No shots Mummy, no shots. I won't be a puppy anymore, Mummy, no shots," the couple disappeared from the view, the young tot half clinging to her mother, half trying to get away from the impending doctor appointment. I crossed my arms, pressing my lips together as more shouts came from up the hall, this time from a grown man.

"Sir, come back. She has to get these shots." The same child was ushered down the hall again, still in the arms of her mother, but this time escorted by a broad-shouldered man who looked ready to hit anyone who got in there way.

"She doesn't need seven! For Merlin's sake, she isn't even that old," he roared to the Ministry official as they swept past him. The little girl looked more than relieved, as did her mother. I shuddered, seven for a child, how many for an adult?

My newest acquaintance, though still serene looking, had his jaw set, his eyes lit up in anger. 'Out of line,' escaped his lips and I nodded in agreement. The Ministry was, but I was unwilling to move to Romania, where werewolves ran free. Ironically, there were fewer cases of new bites after full moons than any other country this side of Japan.

We didn't speak after that, wallowing in a comfortable silence, until finally, he was next to go through the men's check-up. I offered him a small smile and his thoughtful demeanor brightened slightly, and I was certain that although we had exchanged so few words since we had met, we were friends, 'allies against the tyranny of the Ministry' as Rupert had once said. At least, I considered him a friend though I knew quite little about him. A ministry official came out to guide him in, the room finally vacant of its last occupant.

"Can an owl find you?" he asked, holding a hand up to stall the tired looking wizard.

"Of course," I replied, almost bristling. "Should I expect one from you Mister Lupin?" I set aside my pride's scratch and returned his friendly air.

"Tomorrow morning, on the dot," he said before shaking my hand and disappearing into the other room for his check-up. I smiled, putting my hands in my pockets. That was nicest compliment I had received in some years, perhaps ever. He was making the first effort to blossom a friendship, not caring that I was what I am. Well, he was a werewolf just as I, but all the same, being able to add a humanly name to my short list of friends made me happier than I had been in months.

I hadn't long to relax in my new found friendship before it was my turn to be checked up, and nervousness set in. Before, they asked me a series of questions, perhaps had a look at my eyes to see how blood-shot they were from a night of anxiety, but now things were different. Far too different. And to make matters worst, Dolores Umbridge was in the room whilst women were poked and prodded.

I sat down where I was told and folded my hands in my lap, feeling like a little girl again. I quickly made a show of removing my wand, and a piece of taffy from my robe pockets, as the witches in the room indicated, pausing when I recognized Nurse who was mussing around with one thing or another. She winked, and I felt heartened.

"Name?"

"Abernathy, Cadley," Nurse said as I opened my mouth, and I pressed my lips together as she only reinforced the idea that she was here for in and out of St. Mungo's. Perhaps I had more friends than I thought I did. The witch asking the questions glanced at her, raising her eyebrows in question, but Nurse merely went back to what she was doing.

"For the record, Madam, could you please recount how you were bitten?" I frowned darkly, sitting a bit straighter. "And, please include how old you were."

"I was eight," I responded sharply, "playing on a swing in a muggle park."

"A muggle park, Madam?"

"Yes, a muggle park, I just said that." Umbridge scribbled something down on her own notepad as did the questioning witch. "It was four-thirty in the afternoon, quite a few hours before dark, though the full moon was still out. I'd been looking at it, seeing a face in the craters when what I thought was a large dog jumped out at me and mauled me.

"My father, having feared for my safety pulled his wand out in sight of four muggle adults, and six muggle children, and blasted the thing off of me. But, obviously since I'm sitting here, it had already been too late. He was charge two hundred galleons for his 'ill-advised heroism' and had to pay for each muggle's memory to be erased."

"Your father's name, Madam?"

"Emus Abernathy, and my mum went by Bette Pylus before she was married." The woman frowned, recognizing my mother's maiden name, though I could only guess from where. Both sides of my family were pureblood, yes, but neither went back as far as say, the Bones' or the Weasley's without a muggle marrying in. My grandfather had worked in the Ministry, perhaps that was it.

"Thank you Madam." I didn't respond, Nurse flashing me a quieting glance before I could retort out of anger. "And, where were you bitten?"

"Which time?" I took my time getting it out, trying to sound as civilized as possible. It must have been Umbridge's presence that kept me from acting my station, I could nearly feel my blood bumbling and boiling in irritation. "The man who bit me didn't nick my shoulder, then run off because he'd infected me. We don't work that way, thank you. But he got my hands as I tried pushing him off."

"Can you please show me, Madam?"

'I will if you stop saying Madam with every line,' I thought vehemently, before unclasping my hands and holding them up to the medi-witch. Nurse stopped to watch. The witch turned my hands over, frowning often and raising her eyebrows systematically. Did she practice those controlled expressions in the mirror?

"Are you sure this is it, Madam?"

"My lack of wounds doesn't make me any less of a werewolf, unfortunately," I snapped. "I have a nurse at St. Mungo's who knew how to do her job well." Nurse went back to what she was doing and I folded my hands back into my lap. The quills went a'scribbling again, Umbridge looking up methodically to scrutinize me in her own squinty manner. I snorted in offence, and looked up at the Medi-witch, "the scars that were healed, however, do come back when I begin to transform. Would you like a run down on that process?"

"No, Madam," she said quickly, paling slightly. She, to her credit, collected her self in record time, pulling on a mask of calm indifference once again. "If you could, please hand your wand to Medi-witch Willow, and it will be processed while we finished our questions."

I raised my brows as Nurse bustled over, giving me a quicksilver smile as I dropped my wand into her hand. I now knew her name, about time too.

"Can you please walk me through one of your typical days, Madam."

Ugh. "Generally after I awake from a night's sleep, I shuffle downstairs and find a nice warm plate, filled to the brim, waiting for me in my usual spot, provided by my house elf," the witch held up her hand to pause me and I frowned slightly.

"How do you wake up, Madam?"

"What do you mean, 'how do I wake up?' Generally I wake up by opening my eyes, an outside noise or my alarm pulling me from some forgotten dream."

"No, Madam, do you wake up in your bed?"

"As opposed to what? The floor? Yes, _Madam_, I do generally find myself in my bed in the morning, unless I sleep-walked myself out into the back garden. Everyone knows how much a werewolf likes to wake up, covered in mud." The nurse did not enjoy my sarcasm, nor did Umbridge, but I found myself smiling sardonically.

"How is your relationship with your house elf?" she continued on, "you mentioned you had one."

"His name is Golby, and he's been in my service since I was eight. My parent's bought him so that I had a companion, as all the parents of my childhood friends forbad their children to play with me after I was bitten. He's a proper house elf, if that's what you want to know. There isn't any funny business, I hope you aren't thinking that, and I have never transformed in front of him. That's why I rent room and board from St. Mungo's every month."

"That must be a tidy sum," she said to herself, her nose twitching.

"It is, but I can afford it, I am an Abernathy after all," it came out too quickly; I hadn't even thought it before my lips spoke it. The witch glanced at me for a moment, something passing behind her eyes that I was unable to read. "Do you want to hear about the rest of my day? Usually I spend it inside, unless I need a new book. Then I actually venture out into society."

"No, Madam, thank you though." Nurse returned with my wand, handing it to me with another small smile before she retreated to the back of the room. I mulled over the thought of inviting her out to an early dinner, just for the companionship, but decided not to give my results a chance of flaw. Umbridge would undoubtedly cry that my test had been tampered with. "We'll just give you your shot, and then you can go home."

"And what exactly is this shot for?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning back away from her.

"It will rid you of any left over hormones from your last transformation. As well, decrease your chance of transforming this month." I looked at her blankly, keeping my arms crossed.

"Has it been tested successfully?" The chance of missing a transformation boosted my curiosity.

"Yes, Madam." I looked at Nurse, her back turned towards me. It seemed almost too good to be true, but she seemed to have no doubts of her own and I bore my arm for her.

"I need to see both you're your hands Madam, it must be injected where you were first infected."

The shots were over as quickly as they could possibly be given, but although I had done my best to keep my jaws clenched from shrieking, I had still yelped with every prick. The human hands were sensitive enough, but mine more so because of my childhood injuries.

Nursing them even after I'd been led out, Golby was promptly returned to my side, and I wanted nothing more than to go home. My tender hands pulsed painfully and the house elf showered me with frantic attention, unable to help me in anyway. At least I hadn't been paying attention when they took a blood sample, though I was feeling slightly sluggish.

"Let's go home, Golby," I said, shaking my right had as it began to cramp up. I made up my mind as I left the Ministry, that I would owl Nurse, as well as reply to any letter that came from Remus.

Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, for reviewing so far. I appreciate it far more than I can express though this note. I wrote this chapter so quickly as a thank you gift.


	6. Pleasantly Yours

The morning I had expected Remus' letter had been tragically disappointing, and the Ministry's 'recommendation' that I stay home under cooperative house-arrest had set me in a bad mood that lasted out until the late evening. Only then did I settle, allowing Golby to finally tend to my dishevelled room, when the results from my blood sampling had fluttered through a downstairs window.

A week had gone by since the check-up, and the owl I had really been expecting had yet to come and I expected it had something to do with the fact that I was a tad bit more prominent than the man whom was supposed to write me. The Ministry's eagerness to please those who donated to them was astounding, although I could almost see Nurse's hand in the quick delivery.

The clatter of dishes falling to the floor brought me to attention, alerting me that Golby's morning chores had been interrupted by an unexpected visitor. Setting aside the croissant I had been enjoying lazily, I watched my bedroom doorway expectedly, finally smiling as Golby fetched in a pale, parchment envelope.

"Is that for me?" I asked sweetly, my mood lifting drastically at the sight of it. The house-elf bobbed his head and set it on my breakfast tray before disappearing once again. Dusting my hands off, I broke the seal and flipped it open excitedly. I beamed at the fluid writing, my expectations met, and glanced at the signature at the bottom, reassuring myself that finally he was off restriction.

"Madam Abernathy," I said aloud as I threw off the covers. The breakfast tray had hurried to settle on the far side of the bed, fearful of being tipped over. "I hope that the Ministry has left you well, although I'm a bit worse of wear. I hope you don't mind a bit of tardiness with this letter, the restriction spells they placed on my home wouldn't have allowed a bowtruckle, so an owl to a friend was temporarily, as you can tell, out of the question."

Stepping over a fallen pillow, I nearly stumbled, trying to slip on a slipper as I kept my eye locked on the page.

"The week's been a bit uneventful, and the desire for company has outbid any objection from inborn modesty, so I've invited a small group of cohorts for an early lunch this Thursday, and schedule permitting, you are more than invited to join us. We'll either be at the Three Broomsticks, in Hogsmeade, or the Leaky Cauldron, in Diagon Alley of course. I'll confirm the choice by Wednesday morning, at the latest.

If you have a preference, please owl me back when you've the time.

Pleasantly yours."

I snorted in amusement. 'Signed, Remus Lupin.'

His letter had an air of friendly delight, a light feel of relaxed wittiness that made me jump to my feet, in a manner of speaking, to accept his offer. It was only Sunday but I was ready to hop onto the Knight Bus at that very moment.

Folding the letter up, and setting it on my nightstand, I shucked off my sleeping clothes and dipped into the bathing room to clean my sleepy self up. When I returned, Golby had already straightened up my room, and left a glass of pumpkin juice next to my letter. It was now, however, accompanied by a small stack of others, the top most marked properly by one of Rupert's wax seals.

It seemed that every one of my hospital cohorts had been released, and ready to rant. Running a brush through my hair I picked up Rupert's letter and slid a nail through the wax seal. Rupert's voice filled the room immediately, and I winced, bracing myself for the long-winded seethe that came.  
"Umbridge has that Ministry wrapped so tightly around her ring finger that any sanity it had possessed before her arrival has, if not earlier, been abandoned. An entire week, they kept me jailed in my own home, and if it weren't enough, my own servants weren't allowed out of their home." Pulling the brush through a particularly bad snarl, I winced, slowly making my way back towards my bureau for my wand with the howler trailing behind me like a lapdog. "I can't tell you how completely serious I am when I say I am going to raise a complaint against this now"  
The rest of my day was framed by those morning letters, and although many of them ranged from fury to bitterness, the impeding act of actually leaving the house for a social cause had lifted my spirits. I was the last one to admit that however much I liked enclose myself, I still enjoyed the company of others, and I often had to remind myself of that fault. The hours had gone by quickly after that, what with the cleaning the house was put under by my enthusiastic house elf.  
However, my uplifted attitude took a turn for the worse with an outing to Diagon Alley two days after I'd received his letter. We had travelled, once again, by the Knight Bus, for things I had ordered especially from Madam Malkin's, and Flourish and Blotts', as well as another store whose name I always forgot. It was easily found, however, as it had a large red statue of Merlin standing by its doorway.  
"I would have thought you were dead by now, Abernathy." The air had been far more pleasant than my back garden. Though well tended, the good vibrations from human activity made Diagon Alley far more enjoyable than lounging at home. Turning around, I searched for whom had spoken, before finally realizing that he was standing right in front of me.

"After all, you're hardly seen outside the walls of your home." Locked in a cool gaze, though his manner suggested otherwise, I inwardly threw up my defences, knowing all too well I was not 'approved' of by the more social elites of the wizarding society. Knowing the man before me, his pleasant facade was nothing more than that, and his airy greeting was nothing more than a hidden insult.

Lucius Malfoy was a shady man, and undoubtedly he and his knew about my state, if not from my family way-back-when, from sources as.. well, as shady as the package in his hand. Barely glancing at the parcel tucked neatly in the fold of his arm, I returned my gaze to the man's face and found myself yet again in another brief staring contest before clearing my throat.

"Good morning, Master Malfoy," I responded respectfully, bowing my head a fraction. Something flickered in his expression, and I frowned slightly. Yes, he knew exactly why I was absent from the socialite circles my parents had once been in. That is, before they went off to explore Africa. Perhaps even before I'd been bitten.

"What exactly has kept you away? Narcissa, my wife, was just telling me the other day, how much of a pity it was you were so busy. Is it difficult?"

"Difficult, sir?" I asked, almost snapping, my chin raising defensively. His cold exterior began to melt away; he was enjoying this little game he was playing on me.

"Difficult being so busy of course. With your calendar changing so much. You're doing so many things to keep your residence up, we all have trouble keeping track. It's almost like trying to track the moon."

"The moon is hardly difficult to track," I said briskly, clasping my hands all the tighter. I scowled darkly as I realized what I had said, and watching him brighten up I knew he'd gotten what he wanted. I straightened and licked my lips before trying to take it back. "Anyone could do it. Look at the muggles."

"Ah, but only the dedicated truly care." I had never gotten on well with the Malfoys, nor any other 'well-to-do' family in the social circles. At least the ones who thought like the man in front of me. I never could stand to be among people, let alone those who looked down on me. And more than likely rumoured about my condition.Before I could reply, I felt a familiar presence by my hip, and had to barely look down to see that Golby was now standing beside me, carrying packages. I hadn't wanted to risk being recognized, even though I had ordered them, it lead to confrontations much like this. The hinting, the prying.

"A pleasure, Master Malfoy, as always, but I must be going. Golby, has everything been picked up?" Golby murmured an affirmative, bowing his head as low as possible with his arms full towards the blonde wizard; he knew how to act just as I did in front of wizards with 'high standards.'

"It was all mine." I was sure it was. I frowned again, allowing my plastered expression of polite interest to fall away. Turning after watching the wizard walk away, I snapped my fingers for the house elf to follow, expecting to hear his soft footfalls to paddle along behind me. All I heard was the definite sound of something falling, and the curse of someone caught off guard. Looking over my shoulder I saw Lucius Malfoy hunched over, picking up the now misshapen package that had been in his arms.

I glanced down at Golby who looked far from innocent, but far from apologizing. He looked smug, on my behalf, but remorseful for having broken his code of duty. Frowning once again, not because of his sudden lack of subservient attitude, I crossed my arms. "Is something wrong, Golby?"

"No, Miss," he said, turning away from theangered warlock just as the man looked up with his parcel safely under his arm once again.

"Very good, Golby. 


	7. Jeffrey Wimbledon

I don't ever think I noticed the consistent shabbiness of Lupin's robes. Even his dressiest had the tell-tale signs, though miniscule, of age and long wear. The cuffs were slightly rougher than they might have been, and the style was years older than what was considered 'in' but it still held the relative class and panache the designer had stitched originally. I had the sudden wish that I hadn't worn one of my better pairs of robes, I had wanted to make a good impression, and now I felt a vague sense of embarrassment. Though I couldn't say if it were for myself, or the host who invited us.

And then again.. this was only the second time I'd spoken with him face-to-face.

The others at the table robes of good taste and visible freshness, perhaps on the more casual side, but I still felt over-dressed.

To my complete surprise, Rupert was one of the guests of the small assembly, looking as charming as ever. The others however had vaguely familiar names that I've heard now and again, but past the introductions, I couldn't match their faces. I made special care to avoid asking questions because of that. One of the men however was a 'big-wig' at St. Mungo's, and I could hardly guess how Remus knew him. I was careful not to make eye contact with him; I had the fear that he might recognize me from my monthly visits to the hospital. Lupin introduced us and I looked at the man, startled, when he exclaimed, "You're one of the donators the hospital sends holiday cards to."

It was true, and I bit the inside of my cheek hoping my reasons behind donating didn't come out. Relief flooded me when his interest in me floundered; past hazily mentioning my income, his interest in me shrunk considerably.

"Did you hear, someone leaked from the Ministry that muggles spotted a stray hippogriff two weeks ago. Of course, _they_ didn't know what it was, but as soon as the Ministry heard they sent out their best aurors to comb the area. There wasn't a trace of Black at all. They aren't sure if it's a false alarm or not. After all, Black did slip under Dumbledore's nose." Next the St. Mungo's man, a woman in her forties spoke delicately, and I felt a grimace rising. I don't think I was the only one to hear the subtle slur.

"It'd take more the Dumbledore to capture that animal. You know, that Peter Pettigrew was never a bright child. I remember him from my years at Hogwarts," Rupert leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and the candle light caught the silver that had long ago begun to dominate. He always managed to look wiser, older and far more sophisticated than he truly was, and I had a suspicious feeling he was using it to his advantage. I half expected him to give me a little wink. "I was a fifth year when he entered Hogwarts. Can't believe he tried to go after Black."

"Ah well," Remus began, "everybody gets angry. I would've.. if I had the chance to get to _him_ I might've tried the same thing."

"You all were friends, weren't you? Lupin isn't a completely common name."

They say that werewolves have heightened senses, even out of transformation, and I'm told it's completely normal. Most werewolves don't even need glasses, they say. I could almost smell the hesitation coming from Lupin, and I leaned forward in my chair, feeling uncomfortable suddenly.

"We were." And that was the end of it. The subject was diverted, and Lupin wasn't asked any more difficult questions. He almost seemed to be making up answers as Madam who-is-she asked about how Black freed a hippogriff by himself, what Dumbledore's reaction was, and could Black even be captured if the Headmaster himself couldn't do it.

"But," I said suddenly, looking from the woman to the St. Mungo's man, completely confused, "how would you know any of this Mr Lupin? Are you good friends with the headmaster?"

"Do you live in a box, Abernathy," Rupert said cheerfully, finally giving me the wink I'd been expecting. "Remus here worked at Hogwarts last year. Dark Arts defence, right? The details are still a little hazy, but I'd expect they'd be kept quiet. Black, being one of Lupin's childhood friends, waited for Lupin to transform, and used it against the school. Nearly got a bunch of kids bitten. Nearly got caught too, but you know how it goes after that. Clean getaway. Another narrow escape for Harry Potter they say."

"Right," Remus responded promptly, picking up his drink.

"What- what do you mean transform?" I asked, looking dumb-founded from Lupin to Rupert. Everyone at this table _knew_ he was a werewolf? Rupert smiled and took a sip of his own. "Like, potions, or something?"

"Children like to talk. Many of them sent owls home about Sirius Black escaping and how their Defence professor is a werewolf." I think I had been gaping up until that point, but, pursing my lips, I looked away from both men and rest a hand under my chin. I hadn't meant to act the innocent; I just hadn't realized. It hadn't been in the paper of anything.

"Oh." It was the only proper thing to say, and I was hoping nobody noticed the sudden flush I could feel crawl up my back of my neck.

"She doesn't get out much," Rupert said jokingly, giving the others a smile that could have charmed Mr Lockhart himself. "She's gets a little simple. Sometimes I'm not sure she's really as grown-up as she looks." The two other guests chuckled at my expense. Alarmed, I frowned, but he didn't catch it.

"I don't talk to anyone with children," I said tartly, though more to myself than any of the others, but Rupert caught it anyways and laughed. "And mine don't exist?" he asked.

"You know what I meant. We hardly talk, and when we do it's about politics. We've never talked about your children. Now, leave me alone. We were talking about how Sirius Black escaped." He should have taken the hint. For such a smart man, he should have noticed I didn't want to talk anymore about myself.

"Well we could talk about all kinds of things if you weren't always at home with your house elf. Your house is always spotless so I don't know why you worry about it. You know the saying, 'the cauldron doesn't boil if you watch it.'" Had I been sitting across from him, I might have stooped low enough to kick him, but unfortunately, I was sitting across from the St Mungo's man, who was listening to a story the woman was telling him about _her_ kids. At least they hadn't been listening.

"That's no ones business, Rupert, least of all this table's," I said angrily, lowering my voice so I didn't catch their attention. I looked away from him finally, after he didn't respond, and found Lupin looking at me. I don't think I've ever wanted more to die on the spot than just then. He looked sympathetic, and really, I didn't need that. I folded the napkin I'd been holding and stood up.

"I have to use the restroom, would you excuse me?"

Crossing my arms, I made my way as quickly as possible to the woman's powder room. I needed to splash some water on my face, to refresh myself. Something about today's lunch was mentally draining, and I wasn't sure whether it was Madam Whoever's snobbery, or Rupert's teasing, friendly as though he might have thought it. Merlin, we hadn't even finished our lunch yet. The owner was still bringing out the seconds Rupert and the St. Mungo's man had ordered.

Stepping finally out of the room, I jumped back as Rupert tapped me on the shoulder. "My God, do you have to be so sneaky?" I asked, stepping back to fix my robes. I expected him to roll his eyes, but he didn't look chummy; he looked concerned.

"Is something wrong, Abernathy? I thought you knew he was a werewolf."

"Yes I did. I just needed a little fresh air."

"Well," he started, looking a little less serious, "fresh air in a perfume room is irony. What's bothering you? I was just teasing you, if that's the case."

"You know I hate being teased Rupert." I responded. I put my hands in my pockets, and frowned when he smiled in amusement. "And I already told you this, so don't say I didn't."

"You hate being teased because you were teased as a little girl. That's what you said. Evil words make a person stronger. That's what my mother said at least."

"And _my_ mother told me that a little pixie would give me a galleon for each lost tooth. Grow up a little. I'm not a little girl anymore, but you act like one of those little bullies that liked to point at my hands. Teasing me wasn't very polite, nor mature. Did you even think for a second that I might not want someone to wonder why I live alone?" Rupert snorted, and looked down at me like I had missed something important again.

"_I _have to grow up? You're telling me I have to play fairly, and you're not going by the same rules?"

"You were being rude. Not only to me, but to Remus. How do you know whether or not he wanted that little incident brought up? If I were in his position, I wouldn't. It's like you forget that you aren't a.. a you-know-what, and think its some big joke. It isn't a joke. And my life isn't a joke, so don't treat it like that." Rupert's attempt at remaining jovial vanished and he scowled at me.

"I'm not the one pretending about anything Cadley, you are. You _are _in his position, if you haven't noticed. You _are_ a werewolf, and you know absolutely nothing about it. I'm not the one that needs to grow up. You act like this is getting picked last for a game of Quidditch. It's not that simple, it's not going to end just like that. You act like 'its' just this temporary thing." Rupert's expression was stormy, and I felt my anger rise. He never snapped at someone who didn't deserve it. And I most certainly didn't.

"Excuse _me_," I replied taking a step back from him. "But I think I do know a few things about being the _thing_ that I am after all."

"Remus has learned to handle it. It's a sore spot for everyone. _You_ aren't the only bloody person whose been bitten, swept from the bliss of childhood by a monster who didn't know you from a shoe! Stop playing the victim for heaven's sake and take a look around you. None of those people would even bother looking at you if they knew what you were. A few of them would cry for an auror in fact. We're _evil _in public opinion!" He kept his voice down, but his tone suggested he could have shouted it at me. "Hell, they don't even need to know; if you were like most werewolves, just a glance at your robes and they'd guess, but you've never had to experience _that_ side of society!"

"Excuse me, is everything all ri-" A housekeeper hovered in the background, her brown eyes large behind her thin glasses.

"We're fine," I said heavily, watching Rupert throw up his hands and turn away from me in an undignified huff. I crossed my arms and glowered at him in turn.

He ran his hands through his hair and frowned all the more angrily when he failed to present a calm face. We were not walking away from here until he apologized. "We're not through here, Rupert, don't think I'm going to just let you push me away from my meal, get yelled at and then return without a batted lash." He couldn't treat me like a bratty child! I continued on before he could interrupt.

"_I_ know nothing of being a werewolf? You know nothing! You don't suffer the damned loneliness. You've got your children, your set of staff, and your business. I've got a bloody house elf for heaven's sake!"

"That's more than every other damned werewolf has Cadley! That's what I'm saying! I never claimed to be the normal werewolf here. God forbid there be such a thing. I'm not typical; I managed to keep my head above water. And just barely at that!

"But hell, here you are, you walk into a room and expect people to notice there's something wrong about you but not to ask questions! You don't think of the questions your 'forsaken' attitude might bring, the speculation. Oh no, no one knows what you are, but they can guess by the way you act. This isn't a game, so stop treating it that way! It's not going to ever go away!" Rupert's face had turned red in his seethe, his eyes slightly glassy.

"They only ask questions when you bring up the stupid subject, Rupert." I might have continued, but both Rupert and I noticed a third presense approach and shut up quickly. I pursed my lips and took another step away from Rupert. Fighting like a married couple, if only my mother knew.

"I think its time we all left." An all too familiar voice caught up with us, and I turned to see a grim looking Remus standing there with his hands in his pockets. Rupert left first, without saying anything else to me. He thanked Lupin and disappeared from sight.

"Let's go for a walk. The others have already left, and the bill's been paid." Remus beckoned me to leave the empty hall, and without any reason to protest, I sighed and followed.

I tried to give him a perky sort of, Rupert-didn't-bother-me smile, but it didn't quite come off.

We left the pub, a few of the patrons cast glances in our direction and towards the hallway from which Rupert had stormed but nobody asked questions. Least of all Lupin. He wasn't the kind to pry into a stranger's affairs, and that was what we were. Strangers who happened to have lunch together. We knew nothing of one another, and although I was furious beyond a doubt at Rupert for his vulgar disciplinarian act, I couldn't help but realize that his words did hold a kernel of truth. The state of Remus's robes _had_ come to my attention earlier but past my own discomfort, I hadn't given his finances a second thought. The well-to-do company he had invited had, I suppose, disillusioned me just a little. Or I could be making excuses.

I cleared my throat as we stepped out into Diagon Alley. I suddenly felt as weary as Lupin looked, and was quite ready to go home. "Mr Lupin,"

"I think at this point you can just call me by my first name. If anything, its only because there's a hoard of strangers around who wouldn't know the difference between strangers and good friends. So, no need for formalities, really." He said quickly, looking from one shop window to another, as if we were merely sight-seeing.

"_Remus_. I'm sorry if I ruined your meal. If we ruined your meal, I should say. We should have never gotten into that fight. Least of all in the middle of a restaurant. I am really sorry." And I was, I hadn't expected Rupert's little bit of teasing to start an argument. Although, something told me I was more at fault than I chose to believe.

'No,' I thought crossly, 'no, it wasn't my fault. Rupert started the entire thing and I just, I _let_ him get the better of me. No, I didn't do anything wrong. He had absolutely no..' Remus had stopped in his tracks, and I had to crane to see what he was looking at. The day's light breeze was pulling a woman's cloak in my way, and I settled back on my heels slightly dismayed.

A man, taller than I was by a head, exited the shop we were stopped in front of, and the woman with the fluttering cloaks handed him the packages she'd been carrying. Wrapped in plain brown packaging paper, the man, the young man nodded to some question, carrying his parcels under one arm. I could have snorted, him almost dropping his packages. The boy's attention faltered from who I assumed was his mother and he looked at Remus in surprise, a mistake that got him jostled by passersby.

"Professor!" He shoved his packages into his mother's arms faster than I could say Hogwarts, and the shorter woman staggered. Well, at least I knew now why Remus had been window-watching. He'd recognized the boy. Sharp eyes Lupin had.

"Hello Mr Wi-"

"Mum, look, this is that professor I was talking to you about, the one who quit! This is Professor Lupin. He was the greatest! How are you Professor?" Remus's eyes crinkled in a smile, though he didn't bother to reply. I had a feeling he knew he wouldn't have had the time. "Professor Lupin, you've got to come back, Hogwarts won't be the same without you. Everybody says so! Well except for Professor Snape, but there's no accounting for hi- I don't mean any disrespect, of course Professor. Not if you're friends or anything. But you were the best teacher we've had for 'Defense Against the Dark Arts.'"

"Well, I'm glad to hear you think that, Mr Wimbledon. But I'm sure whomever Professor Dumbledore hires this year will do a fantastic job; better than anything I could."

His former student looked unconvinced, but neither of them could push their points farther. Wimbledon's mother, whose pallor had gone from white to ashy red within moments, interrupted, looking up her thin nose and looking clearly frightened. I got the impression of a volcano about to erupt. The son looked at her surprised as she jerked him away, his expression matching the one I wore myself.

"You, you're that.. _you're_ the werewolf? You're that _werewolf_ that Dumbledore hired?" She asked, looking flustered and confused, stepping back from Remus when he started to speak, trying to keep her tall son behind her, out of Lupin's line of sight.

"I no longer work there Madam." Remus replied quietly, clearing his throat, trying to lighten the sudden thickening air that settled upon their quartet.

"But you're the- the man that could have killed those students that had been out on the grounds! What if there had been more, you could have gotten others! Fine thing to have a man whose supposed to be teaching self-preservation who doesn't even take the time to protect his students from his own danger!" Her voice climbed higher, and I cringed as her trembling voice played havoc on my inner ear. Uncomfortable now, I leaned away from her slightly.

"I agree, that's why I quit." She threw a glance at me, giving me a look that could peel paint. How could _I_ find myself in such company she wanted to know.

"You shouldn't have been hired in the first place! Had I _known_ what you were, I would have sent my son to Beauxbatons for the year! Dumbledore must be getting loony! No, no! You lied to him, didn't you? You didn't tell him what you were! You- you put all the students- _my_ son – in danger just so you could have yourself a nice cushy job!

"And now you walk down Diagon Alley like there isn't anything wrong with you. You're a freak! A monster! How dare you speak to my son, you aren't safe to be around!

"Monster! Creature! Stay away, get away from us! Beast!" The woman's shriek had reached a pitch that would have caused me to cover my ears had I not been completely appalled. The woman backed up away from us, pushing her son along with her. Too stunned, or too disciplined to respond, he stumbled along in the direction she had him going. "Now, you listen to me you werewolf! You get out of here. No one in their right mind would want you here! And you take that woman with you. If she likes to get about with things like you, she oughtn't be here either. Merlin knows she's one too! Go away!" The woman reared like a dragon over her brood and it was Remus's turn to back away.

The woman brandished her wand in a flurry, looking half frightened that he'd eat her, and her son's eyes bulged as he tried to calm her. But I couldn't hear him over her screeching. A glance at Remus told me that whilst I was shocked, horrified that a woman would act that way in public, he was merely embarrassed, a shade of red creeping up into his face. I couldn't believe my ears, the woman cutting down her son's mentor in public. It was shameful.

"But Mum, he was a good te-"

"He taught you how to be a dark follower like himself, he did! You do your best to forget everything that- that monster taught you. Rich hussy! Filth, vermin, the lot of you! Get out of here, you aren't wanted!"

"Madam, I can assure you I'm no Dark wizard," he began. The young man's mother turned purple in the face, insulted by being addressed by a 'monster.' She flung her wand about in a sort of fashion meant to frighten back wild animals.

Sorrow took place of the amusement he had shown only a moment ago, and without another word, he steered us away from the gathering crowd and Mrs Wimbledon's accusations. He said something quietly, almost inaudibly and I tilted my head to catch it. A mother of four jostled her brood away from us as we passed.

"I don't think I can tell you how sorry I am about that," he said gravely. "He was one of my former students. Well, obviously. I knew the students had told their parents, but I wasn't thinking. After such a friendly greeting from Jeffrey, I hadn't figured she'd react in the normal way." Our pace quickened slightly, an elderly man shaking his furrowed brow at us as he went back to hiding behind his paper.

There was no hiding for us. The woman still shrieked, telling someone loudly that monsters stalked Diagon Alley.

"Jeffrey? That's his first name?" I didn't want to go down that path; what was normal, and what wasn't. My ideas at being able to hide were slowly shattering, and I knew it. No matter the amount of 'pretty' in my pockets could hide it.

"Yes. Jeffrey Wimbledon, about to enter his seventh year after this summer."

I couldn't answer him without sounding uncaring.

"I had told them, after the incident she spoke about, that their parents wouldn't want me there. I had almost hoped that.." he paused, pressing his lips together in thought before shaking his head. "Never mind. I've come to find out that hope is a lonely man's continuous mistake, as we both saw." That was the last thing he said to me, really, beyond the mutual 'good evenings' as we parted later on. The bleakness of his expression had left a lasting impression in my mind's eye, and when I returned home I sat down in my bedroom to have a good cry undisturbed.

The donation request from St. Mungo's had fallen to the floor.

I'm not sure whether or not Rupert's accusations had gotten to me, before or after the woman's hysterics at Diagon Alley, but after rereading the letter, I felt thoroughly depressed.

I crumpled it up, plucking at a tissue to wipe my nose, before throwing both away at the trash bin by my side. Why bother anymore, I thought. Rupert _was_ right. I wasn't going to just wake up one morning, after a horrible night at St. Mungo's and find that I was no longer 'the monster.'

I worried at my thumbnail. Golby hadn't come upstairs since I'd come home; I could hear him down stairs, bustling around, and I took another tissue to clean up my face. It made me feel slightly better, him letting me alone for a bit, but it did nothing to relieve the anxiety I was feeling. Growing up in the matter of two hours is never an easy thing.

---

Author's Note: I am really sorry about the delay (four months) between this chapter and the last one. Things got in my way: moving, school, sheer laziness. There isn't any real excuse, but I hope you forgive me.

On a happier note, we're almost complete! There will be ten chapters even in this story, and information about a more 'normal' Harry Potter fanfic sequel. It'll actually include characters we know.

A few things about the Sequel:

- Harry's sixth year, of course

- The encounter with Lucius will be mentioned (it wasn't completely useless)

- Rupert returns!

I hope you all read it. I'll post more about it at the end of chapter ten!


	8. Cinnamon Was Her Favourite

Author's Note: WELL. I lied again didn't I .

Here's the second to last chapter for everyone who cares to read after so many months. I finally was able to check my email (no internet at my house mind you) and to my surprise there was one piece of mail out of 76 or so that wasn't junk. I read it and it was review! I'll tell you, I was flummoxed. I decided to update just because of it!

One more chapter to go, and this fiction will be complete. I've talked to my beta about doing a sequel that takes place after the fifth book. Well, it'll be after the sixth book now, and it'll focus on Remus and his duties to the Order. Cadley, will of course appear in it. And hopefully, she'll appear less of a snob and selfish than she is in this story. She's growing up, don't worry. You'll see her fully mature and totally the adult she needs to be in the sequel. She'll help Remus come to grips with his own life.

Thinking about the next chapter makes me teary-eye'd, it won't be a kind one.

---

The pain was bearable, cramps and twinges merely. Something close to what I might have gone through if I was a normal woman. Unfortunately, I am not and had already begun to notice the changes. Brushing my hair this morning, I had noticed it had grown thicker almost as if my very touch willed I had spent them trying to calm my nerves more than impress my house elf.

I didn't need to go open my bedroom door, or go downstairs to know what Golby was doing. Through the stone and wood I could hear his every movement; his toenails on the wood paneling, his self-mumbling, and the clank of the pans he was handling. And if I were brave enough to keep my eyes open, I'd be able to see every stitch in the quilt. Mayhap even smell some trace of my mother's perfume in it.

But, I am not.

I stayed curled underneath my covers, unsuccessfully ignoring Golby, and the growing sensitivity of my senses. Sundown would start it all, when the horizon finally hid the last rays of lights. I shuddered and tried to block out the image I'd conjured. Two decades wasn't long enough to strip the terror away; Golby moved from the kitchen to the hallway.

The stairs softly creaked under his footsteps, and I cringed, but at least I wasn't subject to his toenails again.

"Mistress," he called out, pushing the door open. The hinges screamed and it was all I could do to clenched my teeth together against the noise. The house elf stuck his ancient face beneath my covers before pulling them off completely. "Golby has lunch."

I recoiled from him, nose instantly taking in the freshly washed smell of his apron to the spices that hung to his very skin. I used the corner of her pillowcase to wipe my watering eyes. "It smells like you've more of my breakfast on you then what'll be in the bowl," I commented wispily.

"Golby knows, Ma'am." I opened her eyes in time to catch Golby's sorrowed look, and my heart sunk. The house elf had never miss-predicted my transformations. Not that a single look at the moon wouldn't dispel my doubts. "Mistress, you must eat everything. Golby will go fetch something for your eyes, and then Golby will bring you to Mungo's."

The food was left untouched, and I watched the house elf leave. Everything about me felt heavy, as if I had taken a sedative. Except, my thoughts weren't quieting, if anything they worked in overtime remembering every detail of my last transformation.

The cold floor had felt nice against my feverish skin, the room had been dark to save my eyes from the pain, and there had been no escape. And I hadn't begun to transform until I had stepped into that ward. My eyes hadn't twinged or flinched at sunlight, nor was I normally able to hear my own house settle into its foundation.

I could hear the cloth Golby had wrapped over his feet scrap the stairs as he came back to take care of me. I was supposed to be at St. Mungo's already, not sitting in bed letting lunch get cold. The house elf opened the door, announcing that he had brought some black felt to tie around my face.

"Golby."

"Yes Mistress?"

"What time is it?"

"Golby thinks only a little past noon. Why, Mistress?"

As I pulled herself out of bed, I felt something shift inside my chest. The monster inside of me was stirring hours before night fell, and I hadn't considered it. The house elf helped me pull my curtains apart, and without surveying the garden below, my eyes locked on the gray mass hanging in the sky. The moon was as full as it could be, staring down at her and challenging the sun's claim to the day. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as Golby screeched in alarm.

"Legs! Mistress's legs." I looked away from the cause of my discomfort and found my house elf using his apron to dab at cuts that were appearing on my legs.

"ARE YOU DUMB GOLBY? GET OUT OF HERE." This was how it started. Sitting inside of St. Mungo's, I'd feel the weight of two people on my shoulders, and slowly my personality would change. My human self would give way to the monster that lurked beneath the surface, just waiting for the strength to emerge and wreak havoc. Blood lust was a werewolf's game, and horror and fear was what it wanted.

The house elf jumped away from my as if I had thrown him, removing himself from the room with only a second look back. I yelled after him to make sure he stayed away.

I heard ripping, and the scars on my hands turned fresh. My angry screams at Golby's foolishness turned to a little girl's terror as a monster long-gone crashed through brush to reach her. Bruises erupted across my arms and legs as the werewolf flung my nine-year-old self from the swing set and effortlessly tossed her like a bag of sand. My hands bled from a useless defense, and bites and scratching found their mark.

But through my father's spell casting and the pain I had felt, I had the presence of mind to know that the werewolf I feared most was the one I was turning into.

Beneath my skin muscles strained, growing for the monster as it pushed away my humanity. Bones thickened and strengthened to support the extra bulk, and I suffered all the more as my nerves frayed and brought every painful movement to my brain. Standing there, stooped over in an effort to stop the hurt, I felt herself grow taller, felt my unnatural hunch change into the animal's sloping lurch.

A ragged screech reached my ears as my face contorted, my nose widening and pulling out against skin very much used to a human shape. The scratches that had appeared grew as well, giving the snout less resistance as it came into being. Despite the pain already gripping my consciousness, it grew to a searing magnitude as the monster's pelt took root, and my human mind was cleaved and stretched. I fought, trying to grapple onto the memories of family, and human habits, but shred by shred was torn away from my grip. Cadley no longer held control of my body, and I cried out in anguish as her last leash on my life was jerked away from her.

Huddled in the spice cabinet in the kitchen, the house elf hid away. A monster tore his mistress's room apart, ruined everything she held valuable. He was angry, unable to help her, or at least make sure her most favourite things went untouched. The sound of books ripping and the harsh roar of the monster sent the house elf quivering.

He had sat here listening to her crying as the monster took over. He hadn't obeyed her orders completely and had watched the first steps of her transformation. A house elf couldn't leave his mistress just bleeding. But as she had begun her true changing, terror had ripped him away from the room. Golby had launched himself into the spice cabinet, huddling under the bags of cinnamon his mistress bought. His mistress loved cinnamon in everything.

Golby knew that the Abernathy's were far enough away from their neighbours to ensure privacy, but the screams his mistress had let out, and the screeching the monster was roaring had to have reached the other wizarding houses. Perhaps wizards would come and save his mistress.

The werewolf found that the door, however closed it was, couldn't keep it in the room. The house elf flinched as he heard it clatter down the stairs. It lurched down the stairs, ripping portraits and decorations for the wall with every step. Some of the paintings shrieked in protest, demanding why the monster was in a house as noble as the Abernathy's. Even from the few moving portraits they had in the house, Golby and his mistress's parents had been careful never to allow the portraits to know about her secret. It had been easier that way.

The spices hadn't been enough to stop the werewolf from finding him, and Golby squealed, terrified, as the monster tore the door away from the pantry. The house elf pushed back against the back of the closet as it swiped against him, and it caught the apron he wore. The garment ripped and the monster shook it away in frustration, giving the house elf time to leap over the creature. With a flick of his wrist, Golby had the apron tangled around the werewolf, terrorizing it and sending it into a fresh rage as he flew away from the kitchen. Despite him using forbidden magic, the werewolf was after him, apron and all, without a second thought.

His mistress was dead inside that thing. He would save her, be a good house elf, if she could not save herself. The house elf ran towards the front door bent on escape and felt the house's response. The door flew open it his command, but the house's spells dragged on him, trying to keep him in his servitude. He didn't want to leave his mistress; he wanted to save her home!

A third flick was the charm, and the house let go of him, and he stumbled down the front steps, heaving himself towards a side gate. In the side garden, he could stay one step ahead of the monster, and keep his mistress's things from ruin.

Golby screeched as the air around him filled with wizards, all of which held their wands aloft, and pointed at him. "NO, GO AWAY. MY MISTRESS IS COMING!" The werewolf was already bounding around the house, and instantly, he felt its attention move from him to bigger prey. He reached and grabbed an Auror by the leg. "Do not kill her! Masters cannot kill her!"

The house elf watched through streaming eyes as the strange wizards returned his mistress's attacks, their magic far more effective than his own. "Do not kill her," he cried out loudly, hands still attached to the Auror's robes. The Auror kicked him aside without a word.

---

Author's Note: Truly, thank you for reading Cadley's story this far.

By the way, I reposted this chapter because I was a moron and submitted it in third person. Forgot the the first seven chapters were all first person somehow. Wee.


	9. Betrayal Twice Over

Author's Note: This chapter's more like bits and pieces over a course of two, three weeks. Despite her crimes being atrocious and this is a magical world, you can't hurry the judicial system. It's part of a democracy. That and the in-betweens would be boring to read and write.

As well, this chapter has quite a bit more spoken bits than any other chapter, what with the Ministry being windbags.

Also, forgive me. I can never remember Cadley's parents' names. So, I have the ones I've always liked the best.

---

---

Through shades of red, foreign shapes charged. Pain was obvious and without hesitation, the monster countered. Like a caged animal finally set lose, Golby fell away from the struggled and watched as his mistress rolled over a wizard, dragging a potentionally-letal swipe at the man's head. A scream boomed over the shouting and his mistress went flying, thrown up and away. The werewolf ripped through the flowerbed she landed in, shrieking outrage before shredding a wizard to pieces as he drew close.

Golby's voice added to the confusion, and flapping his hands at the injured auror the man flew away from his mistress's grasp. He wouldn't allow her to murder, they would take her away from him if she caused such a trouble. The auror toppled the house elf as the man's dead weight collided against his slight stature. Golby struggled out from under the man, nose scrunching in distaste. It was almost traitorous, helping anyone who harmed hismistress. A monstrous roar caught his attention,and turning his eyes widened as the werewolf chased after, launching itself in his direction.

Hands were thrown up in protection, but his magic failed to domuch more thanshield him from her. A house elf could no more harm its owners than disobey him. Aurors threw spells at her and he shrieked in alarm. "Mistress!"

---

The pain was unimaginable, most unlike anything I had felt before and, longingly if not unconsciously, my hand searched for the comfort of cool stone. Churned gravel met my touch, however, just as a boot met my wrist. Restricted and confused, I allowed myself to finally meet the early morning and my oppressor.

"Your name, _Madam_." Something stuck into my side and whilst failing to answer I realised just what it was. My nose lay but an inch away from the destruction, and meeting his eyes I felt my own life slip away. A lifeless thing lay next to me, wide-eyed, breathing, but an empty-shell with my mark upon him. Every fear imagined since my primary years choked me. I _was_ my predecessor; reaper of human life and mother of a monster.

I screamed, pushing myself away from the ruined man without success. The boot became a man, livid and vengeful, with no need to push around his full weight but pushing it all the same. Whatever had been in my stomach the night before was immediately rejected.

"What happened to him? No, get off me! I haven't done anything! It isn't time yet, I didn't do it!" I lashed out at the motionless man, grasping at the front of his robes. An almost ironic movement after my recoil a moment before. " I didn't do this; I'm not the monster! I'm _not_ the monster! Golby, tell them; please, tell them!"

"Will you shut up already! He's dead and you're the one who done it."

"No, he's breathing! Don't you see? I didn't _kill_ him, he's not hurt. He's fine, he's just_ fine_." The man leaned in close enough that I could count the wrinkles to his crows' feet.

"Stupid; just blind and stupid. Not Whiterby, he's worst off than dead by you. Your house-elf, your _Golby._ He's the one s'dead. As dead as You-Know-Who hisself. You, in all your fury and destruction, ripped him limb from limb. Standing at your defence no less!"

I had the distinct feeling that grief stopped my heart from beating. I allowed an auror to pull 'Whiterby' from my grasp as another yanked me into a sitting position while the aches and pains of my 'adventure' disappeared.

"He can't die," I mumbled thickly. Numbly, I recognized that restraints flew from the watchman's wand. "Who'll watch the house when I leave?"

"What's it matter t'a piece a trash like you? By Jove, you'll never see the house again anyways. Dementors'll eat you all up, see if they don't."

The garden was a complete mess, a combination of churned mud and grass. Gravel was sprayed across the yard, mixed with the greatest evidence of a struggle. My eyes refused to search for the house elf as my mind assured itself that he was hidden in the house, just as I had said. These Aurors were obviously bitter. The man on the ground couldn't have been bitten. I would never bite another human being, I knew the pain all too well. Obviously, they were bitter. Almost morning wasn't it? Had to leave their husbands and wives, I'm sure. They were all just upset at getting up.

"Please get Golby." I said, licking my lips. "He's in the house, kitchen. He sleeps in the kitchen. Can't get him into a guest bedroom for the life of me. Parents too, they tried. Won't budge. Gobly, house elf to the bone, he says servants belong in their quarters and no where else. Silly things, house elves." An auror off in the corner of my vision jerked away from the side kitchen door.

"I don't know where he got the idea that he's anything but family, do you? He was my best friend, bought when that monster bit me at the park. Lots of people came, you too, yes? Surely you remember. Golby does. Get him please?"

The booted auror ignored me, still as red as can be. 'Whiterby' was carried off, sheltered for view by his own cloaks. "Show's over!" I shouted hoarsely, slumping back when a wand entered my line of vision. "Shut up," a whiskered man said unevenly. "Just shut up, and you'll get out of here in one piece. More than I can say for Whiterby or your Golby. Keep quiet or we won't hold back. Wizenmagot doesn't care how injured they get you, and we can say you did it to yourself."

Suddenly, I didn't have the strength to look up at them anymore. I decided, with what conscious thought I had left, that sleep was best.

---

Passing through the halls of St. Mungo's, plastered to the armed arms of two burly Aurors, I caught sight of Rupert around the corner. My eyes caught his, and I know he must've mistaken me for someone else, because he looked away. Despite our fight, he would never think ill of me, would he? Of course not. We're friends. More than friends according to some, even if it isn't true. Rupert would never cut a friend like that, ignore them when they needed assurance.

I stared after him, hopeful that he would turn around and finally see me. 'Rupert, turn around please. Just a wave, anything before I get sent away.'

Rupert did catch my eye, but there was none of the friendliness I had known before. Cold and distant-looking he was choose not to acknowledge. His reputation was on the line, I couild see it in his expression. I saw Nurse lead him away before I turned the corner.

---

After six visits to the Ministry of Magic, various departments, the day of reckoning had finally arrived. I was dragged down the hall, unable to walk myself because my knees refused to work properly. I don't blame them though. Even if it's only a third of the Wizenmagot, being placed in front of them terrifies me beyond reason. Werewolves haven't been executed since You-Know-Who's disappearance, but compared to my likely destination I can't help but hope for the worse.

Death Eaters, traitors and mass-murderers have been brought in front of these people and now I've joined their ranks. As if the weight of Golby's death hadn't been enough, that thought alone sent me reeling anytime I thought about it.

The doors were open already and I was unable to prepare myself before being thrown to the sharks. Not much that I could have done anyways. I was shoved in the chair and bolted down before I could even think 'Dumbledore.'

"Cadley Maureen Abernathy, daughter of Alios and Mariska Abernathy. Residents both of 28 Dibbing Boulevard, but out of the country. Correct?"

The woman was obscured by shadows; stark contrasts to the bright lanterns lit around the wall. "Ah," I started. "Yes, correct."

"Cadley Maureen Abernathy, your testimony has been witnessed before a select group of impartial wizards. The Wizenmagot finds you guilty of twenty-one of twenty-two offences brought against you. Ascending from least to worst, they are listed  
as follows:

"One count of misconduct: conspiring to commit civil disobedience within a private, unsanctioned residence.

"Three counts of civil disobedience: failure to comply with 'The Werewolf Charter of 1963', the 'Domesticated Lupine Act' and the entirety of 'The Guard and Protection of Magical Creatures Decree of 1972'.

"One count of destruction of property: the attack and butchery of 'Golby' the house-elf.

"Seven counts of misuse of Ministry forces: Aurors Arabi, Bones, Fabians, Griffin, Richards, Robard, Whiterby.

"Six counts of individual endangerment: Aurors Arabi, Bones, Fabians, Griffin, Richards, Robard.

"One count of destruction of life: the contamination of Auror George Whiterby.

"Lastly, two counts of social endangerment: both the wizarding and the muggle world.

"The Wizenmagot has, unbiasedly, decided upon your punishments and your sentencing goes as follows. The lighter penalties: For the count of misconduct, fifty galleons. The three counts of disobedience, fifty galleons each. For the destruction of your house-elf, the wizarding privilege of hiring such civil servants has been stripped. For the seven counts of misuse, a hundred galleons a piece.

"The heavier penalties: For the six counts of individual endangerment, a hundred galleons each, as well as a week in Azkaban per count. For the contamination of George Whiterby, two hundred galleons, all healing fees and six months in Azkaban. For the social endangerment of two communities, six months each in Azkaban. Your properties will be stripped.

"For your irresponsibility and trouble you have brought upon the wizarding community, you shall be listed as dangerous in the next criminal posting. The Wizenmagot, however, is sympathetic to your plight and inability to alter your existence, and upon your release from the prison island your wand shall be returned to you. The Wizenmagot as well grants the possibility of early release for respectable conduct.

"Thank you for your time and patience, Madam Abernathy, your fines and consequences add to a loose seventeen-hundred galleons, excluding the future costs of Auror Whiterby's medical care. The loss of wizarding privileges, and

five-hundred and forty-six days confinement. Roughly a year and a half incarceration.

"Good day Madam Abernathy, your punishment shall commence directly."


End file.
